Birthday Q-Aches
by CrlkSeasons
Summary: In the alternate Endgame reality, Adm. Kathryn Janeway receives three birthday visits from an unwelcome guest. J&Q, P/T, implied J/C


Written for VAMB's Secret Santa exchange. Kelsaur took me out of my comfort zone and requested a Janeway X Q story.

Be careful what you wish for.

**Birthday Q-Aches**

**Q's First Visit **

The air is a heavy mist leaking water onto San Francisco's period cobblestones. Once perky wreathes bear the heavy weight of sodden red ribbons. Kathryn gratefully leaves the streets of old town behind and escapes into the protected walkway leading to her office at the Admiralty. Her mood is as wet as the weather.

When she decided to walk back from dining with Chakotay, Kathryn hoped that seasonal decorations and cheerful storefronts would cheer her up. After a year of waiting, Chakotay still hasn't been given a ship. There is no word of one being available in the near future. Kathryn is convinced that Chakotay has only put up with Starfleet's stalling for as long as he has because he doesn't want to leave her alone with the weight of the Voyager crew on her shoulders.

There was a spurt of promotions in the beginning. Kathryn made it to admiral. None of the Voyager promotions turned out to have any real sway with the brass in Starfleet. Kathryn used to tell herself to have patience. These things take time. She doesn't bother with these fairy stories anymore.

Starfleet is a closed club headed by a cadre of captains, admirals and vice admirals who served together in The War. That's war with a capital 'T' and a capital 'W' because the Dominion War is the only experience that carries any weight with them. It might have been different if Voyager had made it back sooner. There is no changing their attitude now. She has tried often enough.

Kathryn greets the security staff on duty, rides up to her office, enters her code and closes the door behind her. It is dark inside. Kathryn easily navigates around the furniture without the benefit of light. She does it often enough. She slips off her heavy raincoat and hangs it up to dry. All she has gotten out of her walk is some exercise and an annoying drip down the back of her neck. She tries to catch the drop with a tissue. It has slipped too far down for her to reach. She solves her problem by sliding into her chair and pushing her uniform against the chair back. It is a minor victory in a frustrating day.

Kathryn reminds herself once again how much she has to be thankful for in the Alpha Quadrant. Right up to the end, the Delta Quadrant was a dangerous place for a ship on its own. They lost Icheb and Megan Delaney the very last year before they found a way back. Megan died a mere month before their return.

Kathryn's mornings no longer begin with a tally of those still alive and the dread that someone else might be scratched from that list before the end of the day. She no longer wakes in the too quiet night, missing the sound of Voyager's engines, wondering what is wrong. She has the satisfaction of knowing that her crew is safe at home.

Kathryn keeps in touch with her former crew, doing what she can to support them through the slow transition. She meets B'Elanna regularly for lunch. The promising technology brought back from the Delta Quadrant has hit a wall. Voyager's former Chief Engineer works hard to avoid breaking the noses of supervisors who think they know more than she does because they have three degrees in outdated engineering methods. It does B'Elanna good to vent with someone other than her husband. He has frustrations of his own.

Tom is little more than a glorified chauffeur, ferrying politicians and diplomats on milk runs. At first it was a temporary assignment. Then Julia Paris stepped in. She decided that it added more stature to 'the name' to have Tom associate with prestigious diplomats. His diplomatic assignment was extended indefinitely.

After Admiral Paris's death at the hands of extremists, Julia Paris made it her mission in life to promote the aura of secular sainthood that his martyrdom bestowed upon the Paris name. The fact that the extension meant stretching Tom's months of mind numbing boredom into years of more mind numbing boredom was irrelevant. She would have made a good Borg Queen.

Kathryn can offer support. She has little power to makes changes. Admiral Kathryn Janeway is a desk bound admiral. She made first contact with more species than most admirals meet in a lifetime. She survived more conflicts with belligerent aliens than she can recount without referring back to her logs. She kept her stranded crew together and got them safely home. Nonetheless, she's relegated to the background, her opinions ignored by those with 'real experience'.

Kathryn slams her padd down in exasperation. What the hell do they think the Voyager crew was doing all those years in the Delta Quadrant, taking an extended tour of the top tourist attractions?

Almost on cue a blaze of light cracks the darkness. When she can see again, her office is festooned with a tasteless display of gaudy streamers and overly large balloons. A large chocolate cake dripping with caramel frosting sits on top of her desk. It is tilted askew by a padd trapped under the serving plate. Kathryn recognizes it as a pathetic version of Gretchen Janeway's incomparable caramel brownies.

Massed sparklers spit and sputter, obscuring a figure standing on the other side of her desk. An off-key version of 'Happy Birthday' serenades her and ends with a rousing cry of, "Happy Birthday, Kathy!"

There is no mistaking that smug voice.

"Q! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Even with the Q, Kathryn's voice carries the ring of authority.

Unfortunately, this particular Q has no respect for authority. He tosses aside his stringed instrument and frowns at Kathryn. "Getting senile, Kathy? I said 'Happy Birthday' didn't I?"

"It's December," she informs him dryly, "nowhere near my birthday."

"Picky, picky, picky. You're getting to be such a stuck-in-the-mud. You were much more fun in the Delta Quadrant."

Kathryn glares at him.

Q points at the mass of sparklers threatening to melt the icing on the cake. "Blow out the candles and make a wish. What'll it be, a mission to the Beta Quadrant or command of the Enterprise?"

"I'm not in the mood for one of your adolescent pranks, Q. Get this," she waves her hand at his added decorations, "out of my office."

"Oh, all right," he concedes petulantly. He snaps his fingers and the colorful accouterments disappear leaving a standard admiral's office behind. Q wrinkles his nose in disgust. "How can you stand it? It's _sooo_ drab!"

Kathryn folds her arms. "What are you really after, Q?"

Q sighs melodramatically. He perches on the side of her desk and leans close to her. "Kathy, I'm here to rescue you from your dismal existence."

Kathryn moves her chair away from him. "I don't need any rescuing, Q. My existence is fine!"

Q sits back and considers her coiffure critically. "It's the grey hair," he decides. "Jean-Luc never let grey hair stop _him_. Come to think of it, he went on more adventures than you're going on now when he had no hair at all." Q drops his voice seductively. "Think how much fun we can have, Kathy. _This_ isn't the life for you."

"Save your wiles for someone else, Q. I had enough 'adventures' in the Delta Quadrant."

"But there is a whole universe out there waiting for you!"

"No thank you. I got my crew home, at least as many of them as I could,' she adds softly. "That's enough for me."

Q isn't finished yet. "A few orders here, some requisitions there, and we can be on our way. I can even get Voyager re-commissioned. Bring the entire crew along if you want."

Kathryn frowns at him. "My crew are building lives for themselves in the Alpha Quadrant. It may not be as exciting here as it was in the Delta Quadrant, but we made it home. I won't let you destroy that for the sake of a juvenile whim."

"Suit yourself." Q stands up so he can leave in style. "You may regret your decision sooner than you think."

**His Second Visit**

It is a lovely fall day. Kathryn takes her time walking back to the Admiralty, enjoying the view of the skyline and the sparkle on the water.

She spent the morning helping B'Elanna settle Miral into the dorm for her final year at the Academy. Kathryn suspects that B'Elanna invites Kathryn along for this yearly ritual more for Kathryn's sake than out of any need for an extra pair of hands. Tom provided all the real help they needed today by taking Julia Paris and her expert advice out for brunch. B'Elanna promised him a _very_ special dinner in gratitude.

The children of Voyager are among the few bright lights left for Kathryn in Starfleet. Naomi is doing well. After Miral graduates, all indications are that she will get a ship posting. The younger Voyager crewmembers – and the Doctor – are the ones who have a future in Starfleet. They have enough years ahead of them to wait until the new generation changes the culture at the top.

It was a sorrow for the crew that there were not more children born on Voyager. An unlikely hit from a Falka battle cruiser took out life support outside Voyager's daycare about fifteen years into their journey. After that awful day, fewer parents risked having children.

Kathryn's outer office is bright with afternoon sunshine. Her aide, Lt. Havig, greets her with an information update as they cross to the door of her inner office. "Three new messages. Nothing urgent. The reports that you asked for are on your desk."

"Thank you, Kell. Has Admiral Hayes' office gotten back to me with an answer?"

"Not yet, Admiral. Would you like me to try them again?"

"Yes. Do that. Let me know when you get something useful out of them."

"Certainly, Admiral." Lt. Havig finishes up with her usual efficiency and returns to her desk.

All of this is normal, all routine.

There is nothing normal, nothing routine about the excited yips and scrambling paws that greet Kathryn when she enters her sanctuary. The fact that her aide rushes in to see what is wrong tells her that the puppy now wagging its tail did not pass Kell Havig on its way in.

The bubble-gum pink frosting on the substantial birthday cake, the pink and red balloons hanging from the ceiling and the life-sized teddy bear sitting in her chair provide all the clues Kathryn needs to solve this puzzle. She restrains the excited puppy and waves her aide back to her post.

"It's all right, Kell. I'll take care of this."

The lieutenant restrains her curiosity. She is after all, Starfleet trained. She reluctantly closes the door behind her and returns to her desk.

Kathryn makes a quick examination of the rest of the changes in her office. The statues on her shelf are now a row of dolls. A lace doily sits on her desk where her terminal should be. The standard issue couch is now a damask rose sofa. The décor is an offense to every little girl stereotype that she can think of. There is no doubt in her mind about who is responsible.

"Q!"

A body-less face hovers above her, "You called?"

"Get down here. Now!"

The rest of Q appears and he lands adroitly on his feet. He opens his arms wide. "Oh, Kathy! You want me!"

"Not likely." She pushes the puppy into his arms. "What are you up to this time?"

"Don't you love it? It's for your birthday," he announces proudly.

"It's September. My birthday was four months ago."

Q purses his lips in disapproval. "Must you insist on sticking to that outdated, linear calendar? You humans are so limited!" He puts the puppy down and leans in closer to sell his argument. "It's the spirit of the occasion that counts!"

Kathryn isn't buying. "_My_ spirit wants you to get rid of all this!"

"I thought you, of all people, would appreciate a little youthfulness in your life. Your chicks are all gone. They've left the nest. They don't need _you_ any more."

Kathryn can't argue with him on that point. Her Voyager crew has scattered. Aside from the annual reunion, she hardly sees them anymore. Harry is one of the very few left in Starfleet. He's obsessed with making up for lost years. He accepts every assignment that promises to speed him along the fast track to captain. Unfortunately he is compromising any chance for a personal life to do it. After waiting for Harry all those years, Libby has given up on him and accepted a proposal from an old friend, a cellist with the symphony orchestra.

Tom and B'Elanna gave up on Starfleet several years ago and established themselves in lucrative new careers - Tom as a holonovelist, B'Elanna as an engineering consultant. Tom can afford the latest in private shuttles. They satisfy his lingering need to fly. Perhaps B'Elanna satisfied a need of her own when she accepted the position of Federation Liaison to the Klingon Empire.

Chakotay held out longer than most. He finally accepted the fact that Starfleet was never going to value his talents. Three years ago he accepted a professorship at the university on Keltor Five. His expertise with early life forms in the Delta Quadrant provides exciting new insights into the trace fossils discovered on Keltor's third moon.

Chakotay keeps in frequent touch with Kathryn. He returns every year to celebrate her birthday. Still, it isn't the same as being with him every day. Kathryn misses him.

Bucking the trend, Tuvok is back on Earth, physically at least. He spent his first years in the Alpha Quadrant at a specialized facility on Vulcan. There was never much hope that he would get better. T'Pel had insisted on trying. Even the slimmest hope was now gone. T'Pel transferred Tuvok to Starfleet Medical so he could receive good care without having to endure the supercilious attitude of Vulcan physicians who manage to convey disapproval of the emotional symptoms of his illness without ever admitting to emotions of their own.

Tuvok's life seems so pointless now. Kathryn is familiar with the feeling.

Q follows up on Kathryn's thoughts. "Your career is going nowhere. Your family moved on all these years without you. You're not getting any younger, Kathy. You're never going to have children of your own. You don't have many options left for personal companionship either. I don't see a lineup at your door. On the other hand, _I_ am more than happy to step in and help out." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Kathryn doesn't bother to tone down her sarcasm. "That is very _big_ of you, Q. Although, if I've lost so much of my appeal, I have to wonder why you're interested."

"Oh, Kathy. The Q _are_ superior beings. We are not limited by surface appearances. Although I do miss that pink negligee," he adds roguishly.

Kathryn checks to make sure that she is still garbed in her uniform. Reassured, she resumes her verbal sparring. "Ah, yes. I forgot that you have such flexible standards. I seem to recall that you once considered mating with a single celled organism."

"Now that would have been _fun_!" Q chuckles to himself.

Since Kathryn doesn't enter into his enthusiasm for an affair with a Cyrillian microbe, Q suppresses his ill-timed mirth and catches her hands in his. "Kathy, don't be jealous. _You_ were always my favorite. Nothing's changed."

"Except that you now have a wife and a son," Kathryn reminds him.

"Oh them," Q says dismissively. "Forget about them. Think about _us_. Come with me to Risa. We'll have a good time and I'll do something about that biological clock of yours."

Kathryn extracts her hands. "I'm not going with you to Risa, or anywhere else for that matter! I may have wanted more of a personal life at one time. It didn't happen. I'm not going to complain now and I don't need a dalliance on Risa."

"You should think it over, Kathy. This could be your last chance to be more than 'Auntie Kathy' to Phoebe's children and grandchildren."

"Enough!" This time her command voice stops him cold.

But nothing stops Q for long. Instead of giving up, he turns his offer into a request of his own. "Well, if you're not interested in coming with me to Risa, does that mean that you're free to look after Q-Junior while _I_ go?" Q asks. "The Continuum still has that ridiculous requirement that I keep him under supervision."

"Why don't you ask his mother?"

Q doesn't conceal his irritation. "_She's_ no help, always running off to play with Klingons!"

Kathryn switches to her best lecture tone. "You two may insist on trying to run away from your responsibilities as parents. _I'm_ not going to help you do it."

"But, Kathy!"

"I'm busy, Q!"

"I won't need more than a year – or two."

"I'm _very_ busy!"

"Well, if that's how you treat _your_ responsibilities as a godmother!" Q generates more flash and smoke than necessary and disappears in an indignant huff.

Kathryn doesn't take his display of temper seriously. He had enough self-restraint to restore her furniture and to take the teddy bear and puppy with him when he left. She resigns herself to cleaning up the cake and the rest of the decorations herself.

**The Last Visit**

It is a promising spring day. A light breeze ruffles the wildflowers that brighten the hillside in a gentle jigsaw of blues and yellows. Chakotay's grave sits on a grassy knoll near some trees. In four years the marker has molded itself a place in the ground. Now it sits as if it has always been part of the earth.

The wind picks up. A gust dislodges Kathryn's thin scarf. Then it changes direction and blows her hair back across her face. She pulls the scarf free and settles back on her heels, content to feel the sun and the air on her face. This spot suits Chakotay – outwardly calm and serene, but with hidden strength.

Kathryn leans forward to brush away the errant blades of grass that have landed on his stone. She wipes the grains of sand from the numbers and letters etched into the marker. Chakotay's university colleagues questioned the '2394' date she had engraved there. His Voyager family recognized her indictment of his treatment in the Alpha Quadrant and kept silent.

In two days it will be her birthday. Her family will mark the occasion. But the twins' birthday happens to fall on the twenty-first. For the family's convenience Great Aunt Kathryn's birthday has been pushed back a day. It is now a minor footnote to the main event. Without Chakotay, the actual day is just another ordinary day. Chakotay was the one who made it special. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he always came back to spend the day with her.

The last birthday they spent together was extra special. It was as if Chakotay knew ahead of time that it would be their last. He brought her a bouquet of spring flowers from a local market. They spent a leisurely afternoon at her favorite restaurant. They talked. They laughed more than they had in a long time. They revisited familiar places. When they got tired of walking they found a café on the bay and watched the sunset.

The end came too soon. Chakotay had to leave to catch his transport. A month later he was killed in a landslide while working at the fossil site.

Kathryn wipes her hands. She collects the cleaning tools she brought with her and packs them away. She is done for now. It's time to go home.

Back at her apartment she stops in front of her door. Somehow she knows that Q is waiting for her inside. She is not in the mood for his games. The door suddenly slides open on its own. Kathryn accepts the inevitable and steps inside.

The large living area is unoccupied except for one of Neelix's Jimbalian fudge cakes holding a prominent position on the dining room table. The cake is heavy with layers of thick icing and blazing candles that send light dancing across the printed images that cover every available surface of her walls.

Kathryn stops at the first image. It is an early picture of Harry, still stiff and uncomfortable in his officer uniform. Beside it hangs one of Kes and Neelix from when they were together. They hold hands and smile at the holocamera. Kathryn passes on to the next image. She catches herself smiling at the image of Tom wiping the mud from his face after his close encounter with the fetid mud pits of Palomar. She moves on to the next, the next, and the next until she reaches a group photo. It is one that the Doctor took, years ago. Kathryn stops to trace the familiar faces that are lost to her now.

Q steps out of the shadows. "Reliving the past, Kathy? That's what you really want to do, isn't it?"

Kathryn draws her hand back. "What do you want now, Q?"

"What I've always wanted, to give you a birthday present. "Come on, Kathy. Live on the wild side." A mug of coffee materializes in his hand. "Have some caffeine!"

She waves the mug away. "I gave it up."

The mug flashes out of existence. Q does not. "I can take you back, you know. Think about what you can do differently, knowing what you know now. Poor Tuvok, lost in space. Poor Chuckles, all that guilt over assigning Seven to her last away mission."

"Stop it, Q!"

"Say the word. I can make it all better."

"Q, having the power to change the past doesn't mean it's right. We humans need to make our own choices. We have to find our own happiness."

"Are you still telling yourself that your way of getting the crew home made them all happy - that it made Chakotay happy? You're deluding yourself. Chakotay took what he could get because he knew he couldn't get what he wanted. She took him because she wanted the best and whatever you had was the best available. He settled and so did she."

Q grins at Kathryn. "That's what I like best about you, Kathy. You always go for the gold. You never _settle_ for anything," he glances around her empty apartment, "until now."

Kathryn has had enough. "Damn it, Q! Leave me alone!"

Q abruptly vanishes, leaving the cake and photographs behind.

Kathryn expected more of an argument. She surveys her Q-less living room in exasperation. "And take all this with you!"

No response.

She tries again. But he is gone, leaving her with memories that she'd rather not think about today.

They applauded her for bringing her crew home from the other side of the galaxy. So many didn't make it. However in the end _where_ they died matters less than the fact that they died too soon. How they lived matters most of all. How much better could that have been if their lives hadn't been limited to the choices available on such a small ship?

Kathryn scolds herself. She is tired. This is pointless. She can't undo the past. Kathryn disposes of Q's cake. She leaves the photos until morning.

Q hasn't gone far, just to the other side of Kathryn's door. If Q were a more cautious Q, he wouldn't spare a second thought for what he was planning now. Letting a human initiate a change in the timeline opens the possibility of outcomes outside Q control. However, since this Q never had more than a passing acquaintance with caution, he is already well past his second thought and on his way to the third.

So Kathy won't let _him _snap his fingers and change history. He's not letting a minor obstacle like that derail his grand plan. The trick is to give Kathy the tools she needs to alter the flow of time, but let her believe that she is doing it on her own. That's no problem for a Q.

Q's off-again-on-again mate has developed an acquaintance with a certain disreputable Klingon. She has such poor taste! However, this 'Korath' might be useful. He has enough ambition to be dissatisfied with his lot, but not enough ability to pull himself up on his own. With the right bait, Q can make that combination work for him.

In a flash Q is transformed into an imposing Klingon standing in a bar amid a crush of half-drunk Klingons. Although Q doesn't often concern himself with blending in, it wouldn't fit his plan to have any hint of his involvement trickle back to Kathy.

Q spies his quarry, a down-and-out warrior sitting on a bar stool, brooding over an empty flagon of blood wine. Q barges through the crowd earning dark looks from those sober enough to notice him.

"Yo! Dog Breath!" He calls out. Q's greeting catches the Klingon's attention, not favorably though. Q distains any notice of Korath's reaction. "Bartender, blood wine! My friend and I have matters to discuss." When he pushes forward again Q finally notices the unfriendly crowd he has collected. He adds a cavalier wave in the direction of his growing escort. "And more wine for these worthy warriors too."

With his entourage appeased, Q and Korath retire to a secluded bench and get down to business. Many hours and several jugs later, their business is concluded. Events are now in motion.

Two days later, Q is back in San Francisco. In non-corporeal form he monitors the internal workings of Kathryn's communication unit as an information chip inputs data. An un-named source has news about an intriguing temporal device in the hands of a Klingon who might be willing to trade it in exchange for help in re-establishing his family's reputation with the Klingon High Council. That should tweak Kathy's interest! Once she gets going, nothing can stop her. She'll get her birthday wish after all.

The upload secure, Q materializes and leans over Kathryn as she sleeps. For an omnipotent being capable of manipulating time at will, Q is absurdly pleased to see Kathryn's chronometer switch over to May 20. Q gently strokes Kathryn's silver hair, letting some of its former color flow into the grey. When he draws his hand back the brightness fades once more.

"Happy Birthday, Kathy," he whispers.


End file.
